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“Didn’t the police tell you?”
“No, they don’t tell people like me things like that.”
“I don’t know how he died.”
“You’re lying,” retorted Gibson.
“I’m not. I saw no obvious wounds.”
Okay, she might be telling the truth because I didn’t see any, either.“Are you sure you didn’t see anyone while you were there? Or hear anything?”
“No. The place was empty. Except for him.”
“Did you put the fan in there and then leave the wall partially open and place the vase on the shelf?”
“Yes, I wanted you to find the body.”
“Exactly who are you? And how did you know all that stuff you mentioned on the phone? You tapped my lines? Or ProEye’s?”
“I did what I had to do to convince you to help me,” she replied evasively.
“What exactly do you want me to do?”
“I thought that was obvious. Find out who killed Dan.”
“Why?” asked Gibson.
“I told you. He was my friend.”
“From Miami?”
“Yes.”
“How exactly did you know him? Business? You don’t sound all that old. He was at least seventy, if not older. It was hard to tell with him dissolving right in front of me.”
“We were friends who did business together. My age was never an issue.”
“What sort of business?” asked Gibson.
“I feel like I’m being interrogated,” she countered.
“Good, because you are.”
“Maybe I made a mistake with you.”
Gibson said, “You made a mistake the minute you put me in this situation. And trust runs both ways. I need to feel some from you.”
“I told you what I could.”
“I need more than that.”
“Has motherhood robbed you of your detective skills?” asked the woman.
“I don’t like that you know so much about me. And if you so much as come near me or my kids—”
“I wouldn’t do that.”
“You dropped this phone off on my porch,” retorted Gibson.
